


Rittenhouse Queen

by dciphoenix



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Canon, F/M, Rittenhouse, Time Travel, WIPAdoptions, post season two, season continuation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 11:18:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11125980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dciphoenix/pseuds/dciphoenix
Summary: While Jiya remains in hospital, Flynn breaks out of prison, causing the fractured Time Team group to reunite and save the mothership from the clutches of Rittenhouse once and for all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no further plans for this. If you're reading this following the # WIPAdoptions tag; then feel free to do whatever with this as you wish. :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Season two of Timeless after the credits run.

It smells like mould. Like decade old damp slowly climbing its way up the walls over the years, it hits her in the face. There's an array of take out menus near the microwave. No cooker and an electric kettle. The kitchen had an opening to overlook the living/ dining room and the all in one bedroom.

She moves to the nearest window, the edges of the walls has seventies wallpaper peeling away from the plaster, and black and grey marks peek out from behind the drab wallpaper. Guesses the room hadn't been aired out in a while or had the heating on at least. The window was old, one of the throw-open windows from the sixties or seventies that always stuck or always ended up grazing her knuckles against it and had been painted over a dozen times to the point the paint was starting to crumble. She smirks, finds it ironic, frowns and shuts the blinds. 

She takes off her long, beige coat and sprawls on the bed, too small to be a double, too big to be a single.

Rummages around for any hints as to who had stayed recently and when, easily finds a bottle of Bell's whiskey and a lone glass, which fits in her palm, heavy in her hand on the right hand side nightstand. It's a bad idea which probably makes it a good idea. Bringing the bottle into bed was starting to turn into a bad idea, too.

A few glasses later it was turning into one. Shrugging off her jeans and shoes, she decides it would be a good place to stay the night. Hidden, and out of sight yet naked and noticeable. 

Both too quiet and too noisy, the silence, deafening. Leaving her alone with her thoughts or rather just the one circling like a lone vulture.  
Until there's the sound of the door as her stomach drops. A snake of ice coils in her gut, freezing her insides in its wake. 

Her tongue seems to have forgotten how to work as she gapes at Flynn.  
“What are you doing here?”

“Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?” Keys still in hand, he's hesitant, wary as the friend and foe locks eyes with her. 

She almost doesn't want to say it. Foreign words. Poison on her tongue. In her veins. “Mom's Rittenhouse.” I'm Rittenhouse. Right down to the core.

His reply is resigning, final. “I see.” His lips are tight, face brooding. Probably planning his next move, plotting, hair mussed, and jacket hanging from one shoulder.

“There's blood on your collar.” She says, not entirely sure why. Grateful, relived for the distraction. 

“It's not my blood.” There's a silver lining if ever she saw one. 

“Oh.” That's good, she supposes and doesn't press for anymore information after that. Old enemies too exhausted to fight. Reasons for fighting not of interest anymore. “Can you stay?” She replies and chews the inside of her lip. 

“Technically this is my place.” Never one to mince his words. 

“Okay. Can I stay?” She breathes out the realisation she’s in nothing but a baggy t-shirt and panties comes sliding back to the edges of her consciousness, if only slightly. 

“Of course.” Flynn doesn't say anything after that, doesn't look at her and there's a beat of silence before he moves to sit next to her on the bed. Over the sheets. Doesn't move any further. Doesn't speak. The empty silence no longer as suffocating. 

Time blends and becomes vague . "You've never lied. Not once… I don't think.” Alcohol fuels the fuzz starting to grow in in her brain. “You've been vague, distant even. But you've never lied.’’ She clings to him, emotionally, her sinking ship in the storm. He keeps her afloat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I lost the plot with this, but this was the next chapter I had written

It's dawn when she wakes and Flynn is nowhere to be seen. Lucy swings her legs out of bed and hangs her head, rubs a hand down her face, over her eyes and nose, imagine the creases around the corners of her yes only a nights sleep as poor as hers could create. Especially after a difficult night of sleep in a bed that wasn't hers, she was suprised she even slept for as long as she did. Grabbing her jeans and bra, Lucy moves into the bathroom, brighter than the den, although just as scruffy. 

Tosssing her clothes on the toilet seat and locking the door, Lucy runs the shower and holds a hand underneath the running water, near deafening in the small shower cubical.

Lucy pulls the bathroom cabinet doors open, finds basic supplies and rough towels, looking more fresh than anything else in the flat. 

Flynn had once passed on the location if they get split up or if they ever need help in the present. Ot was eitherucky or ironic it was the first place she could think of, the first place she could run to

 

Lucy showers quickly enough, happy to wash off the day's worth of grime and shame off her skin. Having not one but two Rittenhouse parents isn't something to be taken lightly. Towelling off her skin and hair, she dresses in yesterday's clothes minus the underwear. 

The small kitchen had the most basic of appliances, a microwave here, kettle and toaster there but nothing to make a square and nutritious meal with. Luck was in her favour she pocketed her phone and purse while devising a way to sneak out unnoticed. 

After her Mom had taken her hand and told her to her face that she was a pure Rittenhouse member and utterly royalty in the eyes of Rittenhouse elite, she had dialled up Wyatt number, immediately hanging up so he would receive a missed call notification. Then waited and passed off his call back as Mason Industries asking her to come in the the evening. Which seemed to be thier way of doing things. Her Mom had taken the bait, her excuse and bolted out the house the minute she could. 

Lucy finds a stale tin of coffee and boils water in an ancient kettle that had seen better days and probably many hands. “Would it be too much to ask for UHT milk?” She sighs, exasperated to noone. Although, if the milk was in anyway as fresh as the coffee and interior decor, she might want to reconsider before pouring lashing of the stuff into her morning coffee.


End file.
